Ron Stock Poems
Comments about Ron Stock
You Don't Gotta Go To No God-Damn School To Be A Poet
My best friend of forty-five years died not too long ago
and like the fool I used to be I reacted with machismo.
I was building a home on a mesa of wild rabbits and sage,
thinking about my pal I was depressed, angry, in a rage.
I climbed near the top of a ten-foot ladder in this crummy mood,
afraid those feelings of my old friend's death might intrude
on my thoughts as I hammered a nail into a piece of soffit wood
and lost my precious balance as a man possessed of death should.
The ladder fell away, my left boot caught, the eyelet hooked, ...
Ballad Of Big Shot Bobby
It started on the diamond in our baseball Little League,
fighting to be heroes, we were down by only three.
It was our team's last at bat, all three ducks were on the pond,
when up sashays Bobby with his Louisville Slugger wand.
The stadium went wild, all the crowd was on its feet,
when he blasted a grand slam homer. Whack! Into the bleacher seats.
I was sitting on the bench and of course I saw it all
so I know